4-22-06


was she there,
I don’t recall.
remember you,
how could I not.
something was there,
it stored in me.
I bring it up now
to examine.
was there a sign,
I wasn’t looking.
but I saw you
through the noise
and clink and it stuck.
was anyone else there
other than you and me
who were strangers then.
I don’t recall.

what she sees in him


he was always the man
that I could imagine
being old with.
I saw us sitting next
to one another in
a place not here
continuing the conversation
that we started when
we first met.
his ways were odd, strange
to some who didn’t know
any better.
and that’s what I loved
best about him.
I don’t want a shiny penny
or a perfect presentation.
not ordinary, fairly odd,
someone that is sure
to make others think:
what does she see in him.
I want hooks and crags
and shoots that I can
get all tangled up in
on the climb.
he is a man that
I can imagine
being old with.

call me


I didn’t answer the phone.
it was ringing.
I’m not a telephone ignorer.
but I didn’t want,
like you,
to talk to anyone either.
call me,
we can talk about it.

false spring


the rain drop
in february
washed winter
to the curb
long enough
to remember
layerless forays
into a day
wrapped warm
‘round my neck
without a
cowled knit.

the laird of my heart

a ballad (sung low and slow with the whine of a blustery wind and a belly full of beer)

the laird of my heart,
oh, he's the laird of my heart.

over loch and great glen,
my heart I did send.

I gave him my time,
I thought he was mine.

the laird of my heart,
oh, he's the laird of my heart.

his love I held dear,
without any fear.

he left what he made,
his feeling did fade.

the laird of my heart,
oh, he's the laird of my heart.

now the loch holds my tears,
what will come of the years.

he owns my sad heart,
even if we're apart.

the laird of my heart,
oh, he's the laird of my heart.

the laird of my heart,
oh, he's the laird of my heart.

Valentine Hearts




Note: circa 1969. My sister added the 'A' and smiley faces. She graded my little book of poems as play. I love that I had to correct the spelling of 'Valentine.' Yeah, still making lots of spelling corrections 40 odd years later.

gone


what good is gone when
I can still see, hear, call out.
what do I do.
stab myself in the eye
not to look at him no more.
jab cotton swabs in my ears
‘til they bleed so I don’t
hear his voice none.
chew so hard on my cud
I bite my tongue off.
I don’t want this big pain.
I want jabs. jabs. jabs.
like lightening in a summer sky.
intermittent. electric. 
or maybe better, a left hook.
blunt force trauma
that would take me out.

the fly


           I would like to be
the fly on the wall
when you tell
yourself your secrets 
do you lie
    embellish
make believe that
you’re someone else
somewhere else

we all have our
sense of who we are
but it’s rather different
than what others see

I would like to be
the fly on the wall
when you tell
yourself your secrets 
do you lie
    embellish
make believe that
you’re someone else
somewhere else


you don’t see your best
you stick on a stereotype
that becomes you
but isn’t, quite
representational

I would like to be
the fly on the wall
when you tell
yourself your secrets 
do you lie
    embellish
make believe that
you’re someone else
somewhere else


it isn’t any different
than how you look
for what’s worse in others
not seeing them
helps you not
to look at yourself.

in the end                           what will the fly see

a fine line



                  a line                                               
                fine in length                                   
              point a to b                                       
            sloped                                            
          y-intercepted                              
        independent                               
      set of points                                           
    linear equation                                         
  the only thing it isn’t                        
is a direct line to you                                               
is a direct line to you                        
 the only thing it isn’t                        
  linear equation                          
   set of points                                
     independent                               
       y-intercepted                                                     
        sloped  
          point a to b
            fine in length
              a line   
              a line                                               
                fine in length                                   
              point a to b                                       
            sloped                                            
          y-intercepted                              
        independent                               
      set of points                                           
    linear equation                                         
  the only thing it isn’t                        
is a direct line to you                                               
is a direct line to you                        
 the only thing it isn’t                        
  linear equation                          
   set of points                                
     independent                               
       y-intercepted                                                     
        sloped  
          point a to b
            fine in length
              a line                                                           

in time


dust conspiratorially gathers
under chairs and sofa
in layers after days, weeks,
of negligence

seeing it every day
walking through the door
carrying more to compound
its passive drifts

I ignore it. 

prudence dictates that
a broom should enter
to sweep and polish
my living’s debris.

I ignore it.

it will settle in time.

the quiet


remembers to find
corners to rummage
pockets to pilfer

it resonates through
deafening sound
shutting it down

on my shoulder
it sits waiting
for me to be still

groundhog day


the tree rounded
the balcony
down two stories
hollow, stiff, and lit.
any bum could tramp
the alley,
pull it to an outlet
and plug it in.

years ago,
in a wind through
another city’s
back of the houses lanes,
I found a fir cast-off,
pulled it to the rooms I visited,
stuck it in a bucket
and decorated it
with his trinkets.
he was too alone
to make merry.
but I rather made it
for him: roasting meat,
pouring champagne,
lighting someone else’s tree.

tonight, the curb offering
was my own, just happily
decorated with delicately spun angels
and bearded men.
But whether the short of day
or long of night, alone,
it’s a hard tear down.

every year I fight this battle.
in this night, unlike last, it is the
groundhog on the drag to the dumpster
who sees his shadow, not I.
no cold bites my nose or freezes my toes.
spring must be around the corner
quick to catch me as I  nearly go over
the edge with fallen off needles.

bad meeting

inspired by someone else

same   agenda
same   suspects
same   calendar
same   due-outs
same__same__same
down the table
sits some one
next to 
some one else
same__same__same
hey!
oh. no one
wants to hear
what isn’t on
the agenda

introspection

up and down
     and through
          and through
     up and down
and through
     and through
          up and down
     and through
and through
     up and down
          and through
     and through.

up.
             down.

through.

up and down
     and through
          and through
     up and down
and through
     and through
          up and down
     and through
and through
     up and down
          and through
     and through.

down.
              up.

   through.

up and down
     and through
          and through
     up and down
and through
     and through
          up and down
     and through
and through
     up and down
          and through
     and through.

through.

down.

up.

again.

Climb a Mountain

a song

Climb this mountain with me,
hold my hand I can carry
all of your worries right on through.

Leave the past at the gate,
found a path we could take
oh, darling’, I’ll marry you.

Oh, it’s clear to see,
you were meant to be
by my side from this day on.

Having the right feelings,
somewhere hidden inside,
we’ll find them out on the way.

Precious moments lost,
in time spent apart
will you ever see it too.

Oh, it’s clear to see,
you were meant to be
by my side from this day on.

If you light your smile,
it won’t take a while
for us to make our  vow.

From this moment on,
we could love each morn
and find our true love’s home.

Climb this mountain with me,
hold my hand I can carry
all of your worries right on through.

Leave the past at the gate,
found a path we could take
oh, darling’, I’ll marry you.

dusk


in the half light that is dusk,
I feel the loneliest.
the sun slips into the horizon
leaving all that’s around me
unilluminated:
it does not cast a shadow
the length of me
to pretend a friend,
nor does it warm the face
that I hold up to the sky.
It has no words,
does not call my name,
or make me feel safe as
the stars shining in this new sky
are millions of miles from here.
in the half light that is dusk.